Broken Trust
by lorilee66
Summary: Jarrod is punished for a serious mistake. warning: This story contains violence towards a child. It is set in about 1852 where corporal punishment wasn't only common, it was also expected.


_A/N: This story is set in about 1852 where corporal punishment wasn't just common, it was also expected. I don't own The Big Valley and make no money from this._

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"Pull them down, bend over and put your hands on the sawhorse."

Jarrod did as he was told, unfastening his trousers to expose his buttocks and placing his hands in the proper position. He tensed when he heard the swish of the willow switch through the air as his father prepared to mete out his punishment. Fifteen strokes was what his father almost roared that he was going to get, ten more than the twelve-year-old had ever gotten in his life, and he'd never needed to be punished behind the woodshed more than a couple times before.

The switch whistled through the air and Jarrod couldn't help flinching at the sharp stripe of pain. It radiated across his backside and down to his thighs and Jarrod knew his father had never hit him that hard before. Another thwack and tears welled up in his eyes. _I won't cry,_ Jarrod told himself, _I won't cry._ He repeated that with every strike, but he also knew he deserved every agonizing blow for what he'd almost let happen to his little brother.

He knew Nick wasn't a very good swimmer yet; he knew the current in the middle of the creek was deep and strong. He knew they weren't allowed to go by themselves and should have said no when Nick begged him to go catching frogs or at the very least he should never have let his brother out of his sight. It didn't matter that he'd went into the creek and managed to pull Nick out even after his head disappeared under the surface. It was still his fault that Nick was lying upstairs under the very real threat of developing a deadly case of pneumonia; if Nick died, it would be because of him and no one else.

A tear rolled down his cheek and Jarrod told himself it was just worry for Nick, not from the searing pain across his back and down his legs. He almost couldn't feel the last few blows through the agony and prayed his parents would let him eat standing at the sideboard. But then he thought of Nick's still body when he'd pulled him out of the water and he knew it didn't matter compared to his brother almost dying.

The count finally reached fifteen. Jarrod heard the switch hit the ground and his father's gruff order of, "Finish you chores and your brother's too."

"Yes, sir." Jarrod pushed himself up. He leaned against the wall of the shed and after he slowly pulled his trousers over his abused skin, he noticed a smear of blood on his hand. But he didn't blame his father for the brutal beating; knowing how much he hated himself right now, it was no wonder his father hated him too.

Pushing away from the wall, Jarrod tried to move in the direction of the barn where the stalls waited to be cleaned. His leg buckled from the pain and he fell heavily to one knee. Jarrod's face burned with shame and he was glad his father had already left before he saw how weak his son was.

He struggled to his feet and staggered to the barn. His father must have said something to the hands; there was no one around to see or offer him help. Jarrod leaned on the handles of the wheelbarrow for a moment before he pushed it closer to the stalls. Fiery pain stabbed down his legs, but the horse occupying the first stall was quiet and gentle and Jarrod was able to use her for support as moved her out so he could clean the straw.

Jarrod tried to focus on the task at hand, but the worsening pain made it difficult, not to mention his sickening worry for Nick. He continued to see his brother's head disappear under the water and the image was dispersed only when there came an even more excruciating pain as he turned to dump the forkful of dirty straw in the wheelbarrow. His head started to spin and Jarrod felt himself falling as the world slowly went black and the pain finally drifted away.

.

.

Victoria smoothed a wayward lock of hair off her son's forehead. Nick was finally sleeping and his deep, even breathing lessened her worry that he would develop pneumonia.

She heard the door open and looked up to find Tom standing in the doorway.

"How is he?'

Victoria smiled. "He's sleeping. He still needs to see the doctor, but I think he's going to be fine. Where's Jarrod?"

"He's doing his and Nick's chores." Tom walked over, stood beside her and looked down at Nick. "Are you sure he'll be okay?"

Victoria nodded and shrugged at the same time. "No, I'm not sure, but I think so. The doctor should be here soon." Then she looked sternly at her husband. "Tom, I hope you didn't punish Jarrod too harshly. He was feeling horrible for taking Nick to the creek in the first place and it wasn't hard to tell how worried he was."

"He knew better, Victoria," Tom told her. "Jarrod knew they shouldn't have been down there and Nick almost died because of it. He only got what he deserved."

She turned back to her sleeping son. "And he saved Nick's life. I hope you also told him you were proud of him for how brave he was."

Hearing uneasy shuffling, Victoria looked back at Tom, who was staring at his feet. "You didn't tell him anything like that, did you, Tom?" she accused her husband. "All you did was tan his backside for what he did wrong without praising him for what he did right."

Tom nodded uncomfortably. "I reckon you have a point, Victoria. I'll talk to him as soon as he comes in from his chores."

"Missus Barkley? The doctor is here." Silas stood aside and let Dr. Merar into the room.

Victoria stood to give the doctor more room. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Thomas."

Dr. Merar sat on the edge of the bed, opened his bag and took out his stethoscope. "I understand he fell in a creek?" He put the stethoscope in his ears and held it against Nick's chest.

"He almost drown," Tom stated. "But he was conscious when Jarrod brought him home."

"Jarrod didn't think he was breathing when he pulled Nick out," Victoria added. "He said Nick coughed up a lot of water a minute later."

"And where is Jarrod?" the doctor wanted to know. "The creek's pretty cold right now, I should check him over too." He tucked his stethoscope back in his doctor's bag. "His lungs sound clear." Dr. Merar patted Nick's cheek. "Nick? Nick, can you hear me?"

The offending hand was swatted away. "Go 'way," came a grumble from the bed. "I'm tired."

But the doctor persisted with a smile. "Nick, can you tell me what happened?'

One hazel eye cracked open. "Fell in the creek chasin' a big ol' frog. Think Jarrod pulled me out." The eye closed again. "Want to sleep."

Dr. Merar chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Okay, Nick. I'll see you later." He stood and turned to Tom and Victoria. "I think he'll be fine. Just call me if you notice him having any trouble breathing."

"Thanks, Doc." Tom shook the doctor's hand. "Jarrod's doing his chores. Why don't you come downstairs for a cup of coffee while we wait?"

"Sounds good."

Victoria saw them to the door. "I'll just sit with Nick a little while longer."

She sat in the chair, listened to her youngest son's deep breathing and made sure to send a prayer of thanks for sparing the lives of her sons. It wasn't lost on her that the deep current could have just as easily taken Jarrod's life as Nick's. Victoria knew that she had to tell Jarrod how proud she was of him as well, of his cool head and quick thinking that saved his brother's life even though he knew they shouldn't have been anywhere near that water.

She jumped when she heard the loud voice from downstairs.

"Tom! Victoria! Come quick!"

Victoria rushed out of Nick's room and her heart stopped when she saw their ranch foreman at the bottom of the stairs holding a limp Jarrod in his arms. "Mac, bring him up here," she ordered, trying to keep her voice steady. "What happened?"

Mac carried Victoria's eldest son up the stairs and followed her to Jarrod's room. "I found him passed out in the barn, I don't know why. I think there's blood on his pants."

"Just lay him on the bed," she directed, knowing she had to be calm, "and go get the doctor. He's with Tom either in the dining room or the kitchen."

"Yes, ma'am."

Victoria could see the dark wet stain that the foreman thought was blood. At least the doctor was already there, she thought as she unbuttoned her unconscious boy's trousers to see what was wrong. She wasn't surprised that Jarrod didn't tell them that he was injured when he brought Nick home; he didn't usually complain and it was just like him to think of someone else before himself. It didn't even occur to her that Jarrod's injury might not have been from rescuing Nick until she took down his pants and saw the bloody red welts across his buttocks.

Victoria's hand flew to her mouth in horror. "Oh, my God," she exclaimed. Victoria didn't hold with taking the Lord's name in vain, but this was more of a prayer than anything else. She'd expected a few light stripes from his punishment, but nothing like the livid marks she was looking at and especially not the three deep gashes that were still bleeding sluggishly.

Jarrod stirred and moaned, his eyes opening slightly. "Mama?"

Victoria tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. Since he was five years old, the only time Jarrod called her 'mama' were the few times he was sick or injured. She sat down beside him and smoothed back his hair.

"Shh, son, the doctor will be right up."

He struggled to get up, but Victoria held him down gently.

"Nick? Is Nick okay?"

"Nick's fine," she assured him. "Just lie still."

She felt Jarrod go limp under her hand. "It hurts, Mama," he said in a small voice.

"I know, sweetheart," Victoria said, trying to keep the anger over what his father had done out of her voice. She turned when she heard footsteps.

"What happened, Victoria?" Dr. Merar asked as he came into the room.

"I think you need to ask Tom that question." This time, Victoria couldn't keep the bitterness away.

Tom followed the doctor, but abruptly stopped when he saw Jarrod. His face grew pale. "I didn't think I hit him that hard," he whispered.

"You didn't…" Victoria flew at her husband in a rage. "How could you not know that you beat your son bloody? Tell me, Tom, how?"

The doctor's calm voice interrupted her. "Tom, can you send Silas up with some hot soapy water, please?" Victoria was grateful for the doctor's interruption; she took a deep breath to calm herself for Jarrod's sake.

Tom didn't speak; he only nodded and with one last look at his son lying on the bed, left the room.

"Victoria, could you come sit by Jarrod?" Dr. Merar asked.

Turning, Victoria saw tears on Jarrod's cheeks, from the pain or from what had happened she didn't know. She hurried over and sat at his side.

"Mama?" Jarrod whimpered again. "I don't mean to cry, I'm not a baby…"

Victoria took his hand gently. "Of course you're not, Jarrod. You're being very strong and brave, just like you were when you pulled Nick out of the water."

"But it's my fault…"

"We all make mistakes, Jarrod. But it takes a man to rectify those mistakes like you did and I'm very proud of you." Victoria hoped her husband was man enough to do the same for his son.

"Jarrod, you're going to need some stitches," the doctor informed them. "I'd like to give you a shot of morphine before I start."

Jarrod looked at him in askance. "Do you have to?"

"No, son, I don't," the doctor said kindly. "But it would help."

"Do it for me, sweetheart." Victoria didn't really want to force him if she could convince him to agree on his own. "You know how much it bothers me to know you're hurting, even though I know you can handle it."

"Okay, Mama."

Jarrod held still and didn't complain as Dr. Merar injected the morphine into his leg. By the time Silas came with the hot water, Jarrod was already growing groggy and was soon asleep.

Victoria sat by his side while the doctor worked on repairing the damage. She was glad Tom didn't reappear; Jarrod needed her calm even though he was sleeping and Victoria wasn't sure she could do that if she was confronted by her husband. She knew Tom was a firm believer in "Spare the rod, spoil the child," and she was as well to some degree, but there was a point where discipline became abuse. Tom had crossed that line this time and Victoria wasn't sure how she was going to forgive him or if Jarrod would ever be able to forgive his father either.

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Jarrod and Nick were both sleeping comfortably and Victoria finally felt she could leave her boys. She went into the dining room, not sure if she wanted to run into Tom or not, but only Silas was there, polishing some of the silver.

"I'll do that, Silas," Victoria told him. She needed something to keep her hands occupied or she was likely to vent her anger by throwing and breaking something.

"Of course, Missus Barkley." Silas handed her the cloth. "I'll just be in the kitchen finishing some broth for the boys for when they wake up."

Victoria almost succeeded in losing herself in the repetitive motions of the cloth and the silver's gleaming brilliance until she heard Tom's hesitant footsteps behind her.

"Victoria?"

Victoria didn't reply, she only polished the candlestick more furiously.

"How's Jarrod?"

"How's…?" Victoria whirled to face her husband. "He needed seventeen stitches, Tom! One of the cuts was so deep, the doctor's worried that there might be permanent damage to his leg!" She saw Tom wince. "How could you beat your son that badly? And then just order him to do his chores?"

It was a few moments before he spoke. "I was scared, Victoria." Tom's usually booming voice was barely audible. "I was scared that Nick might have died and I was angry. Jarrod's old enough to know the rules and…" His voice broke and he hung his head.

"I have no excuse, Victoria. I raised my hand to my son in anger and hurt him, something I swore to myself I would never do." When Tom brought his head back up, Victoria could see tears glittering in his eyes. "What should I do, Victoria?"

Victoria knew Tom wasn't a cruel man and knew how much he loved his sons. But by hurting Jarrod, he'd hurt her deeply as well and she knew that wound would take a long time to heal. "Apologize to him, Tom," was her only answer, "and tell him how proud you are him, of how he saved Nick and got him home."

"Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"

"I don't know," she told Tom bluntly. "I do know Jarrod loves you and he's always looked up to you. I don't know if what you did will change that or not."

"Can you forgive me?"

There was desperation in Tom's voice and even though Victoria hated him right then, she couldn't deny that she also loved him very much. "It'll take time, Tom, but I still love you," she said. "Why don't you go check on your boys?"

"I will." Tom turned to leave and then turned back. "I love you too, Victoria, and I love our sons more than my own life. Don't worry, I'll make sure to apologize to Jarrod and tell him how ashamed I am of my actions. And I promise I'll never raise a hand to either of my sons again."

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Jarrod wondered why he was on his stomach when he woke since he usually slept on his back. But when he tried to roll over, the shooting pain in his legs and backside reminded him. Nick almost dying, his father whipping him for letting it happen… Jarrod shuddered and tried to suppress the fear that his father might decide to punish him again for his failure to finish his chores.

He remembered waking up in his bed and his mother and the doctor being there and his heart froze. How was Nick? If the doctor was still there, did that mean something worse had happened? His fear for his brother overwhelmed his pain and Jarrod forced himself out of bed. His right leg didn't want to bear his weight, but he was able to use the furniture to help him to the door. Jarrod had a brief moment of embarrassment that he was wearing only a nightshirt, but that didn't stop him. He managed to stagger across the hall to Nick's room and get inside before his leg finally crumpled beneath him.

Jarrod crawled the rest of the way to the bed. Pulling himself up, he collapsed with pain and relief when he heard Nick's steady breaths. He could see the healthy colour of Nick's skin, a far cry from the pallor he remembered from when he'd pulled Nick out of the creek and he knew his little brother was going to be okay. "I'm sorry, Nick," he whispered, not wanting to disturb his brother's rest.

"Jarrod, what are you doing out of bed?"

Jarrod jumped at his father's voice. His muscles tensed involuntarily. "I needed to see Nick," he said, trying to keep his voice strong. "I needed," and this time his voice did break, "I needed to know he was all right." Jarrod flinched when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, but it only gripped him gently.

"Nick's going to be just fine, Jarrod. Now let me help you back to bed."

Nodding, Jarrod tried to relax as he let his father's strong arm take part of his weight and together they got him back to his bed. His father fussed with the pillows, helping Jarrod get comfortable, and then he sat on the bed beside him. "Jarrod… son…"

Jarrod looked over. His father was sitting still, looking at his hands folded in his lap, and Jarrod felt a pang of dismay. His father didn't love him anymore because of what he'd done and even though he'd beaten him badly, Jarrod still desperately wanted that love. "I'm sorry, Father," he managed to choke out. "Nick almost died and it's all my fault. Please don't hate me."

He almost missed the shock on his father's face. "Oh, Jarrod, I could never hate you, son," he said to Jarrod's surprise. "I'm the one who needs to be sorry. There's no excuse for what I did and I know you may never forgive me, but I am sorry, Jarrod. I should have just told you how proud I am of you for pulling Nick out of the creek and getting him home all on your own." Jarrod tried not to flinch when he felt another comforting hand on his shoulder. "Now go back to sleep, son. The doctor wants you to stay in bed for a few days."

His father left the room and Jarrod was stunned speechless. His father had never apologized to him for anything. Maybe… maybe his father had been wrong in hitting him so hard? But it didn't really matter. His father was bigger and stronger than he was, and if he decided his son needed to be punished, he could do so however he saw fit. No, the only thing that really mattered right now was that Nick was going to be all right and his father didn't hate him. Jarrod closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep like he'd been told.

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Jarrod pulled his horse to a stop at the fork in the road. "Nick, I'm going to drop these papers off for Mr. Wheeler like Father asked. Remember, you're supposed to head straight home after school today."

Nick made a face and stuck his tongue out at his big brother. "Just because you're sixteen and going to be heading off to study law doesn't mean you're the boss of me, Jarrod."

Jarrod chuckled. "No, I'm not," he agreed. "But if Father sees me make it back before you do, he's going to know you didn't do as you were told." He stuck his tongue out back at Nick

"Yeah, and then I'd have to do double chores for the next week for disobeying," Nick groaned. He waggled a menacing finger. "You just see that you don't get home too quick."

"I'll take my time," Jarrod promised and turned his horse's head down the road to the Wheelers' ranch. He knew that an animal scurrying across the road or an interesting bird call would be too tempting for Nick to ignore on a beautiful day like this and it would be no hardship for him to take his time either. Like Nick said, he was heading to the city to read law in a few weeks and he wasn't going to have many more chances to just ride and enjoy his afternoon.

When he got to the Wheelers', Jarrod didn't see anyone out in the yard, so he looped his horse's reins around the pump so the animal could have a drink while he discharged his errand. He was about to get the papers out of his saddlebag when he heard a yell of pain from behind one of the nearby buildings. Concerned that someone might seriously hurt, he rushed to where the noise had come from and stopped suddenly when he saw what was happening.

Mr. Wheeler had his son Carl up against the wall and was hitting his bare backside with a short buggy whip. Jarrod saw blood on Nick's friend's skin and without thinking, he walked up and grabbed the older man's wrist to halt his next blow.

"What the…?" Wheeler snarled and recognized the intruder when looked up. "Jarrod Barkley, what the devil do you think you're doing?" He backhanded Jarrod across the face and the young man was knocked to the ground.

Jarrod wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and picked himself out of the dirt. "You son looks up to you, Mr. Wheeler," he said calmly, although he was shaking inside with rage. He knew Carl was close to his father from all the time their families had spent together and something like this could destroy that closeness. "You're bigger than he is, and stronger. It's just not right to beat someone bloody when they can't defend themselves, especially when that someone is the son you love and who looks to you to protect him." Carl was still standing against the wall, trembling. "Could Carl really have done something bad enough to deserve that?"

Wheeler looked over to his son and Jarrod could tell he hadn't really seen what he was doing to the boy. Contrition was etched on his face as he went over and hugged his son. "I'm sorry, Carl," he said. "I should have never punished you when I was still so angry."

Carl sniffled against his father's shirt. "It's okay, Pa. I did ruin your favourite saddle."

Wheeler looked up at Jarrod. "Jarrod, I need to say sorry to you as well. I shouldn't have hit you. Thank you for opening my eyes."

"It's all right, Mr. Wheeler." Jarrod's cheek ached, but it didn't hurt any worse than a bad tumble from his horse. "Should I just leave those papers from my father in the house?"

"Just put them on the hall table," Wheeler told him as he continued to hug his son. "Tell your father I'll be out tomorrow."

Jarrod nodded and went to retrieve the papers. His leg started to ache with remembered pain as he walked up the steps and he ruthlessly suppressed it, leaving the papers where he'd been told before going back to his horse and starting for home. But it didn't take long for him to turn his mount's nose in a different direction. Unwanted memories were resurfacing after what he'd just seen and Jarrod needed some time before he would be able to face his father.

He tethered his horse in a clump of bushes and made his way down the bank to the shore. The small lake he'd named 'Isla de Cielo' a long time ago was still and clear and the trees on the shore were reflected sharply in its deep blue water. Jarrod picked up a small handful of stones and started tossing them one by one into the lake, wishing he could toss away the memories of the beating his father had given him when he was about the same age as Carl with the same ease.

In the few years since it happened, Jarrod had gradually realized it wasn't right for someone so much larger and stronger to beat someone smaller like that, even if it was a father meting out punishment to his son. Yes, he'd deserved to be punished, but a few stinging swats to make him uncomfortable sitting down for dinner were different than inflicting the kind of injuries he received after Nick almost drown.

It had taken over a month before he could sit on a horse or ride in a buggy to even leave the house and almost a year before he was able to walk without a noticeable limp. His right leg still gave him trouble sometimes when he'd been working hard or was overtired, but Jarrod did his best to hide it, especially from his father. The scars were starting to fade, but they were still there on his body and on his heart and he would have to live with both forever.

Their relationship had never been the same since then either. He still loved his father and gave him the respect a son should, but never again had he been able to trust and look up to him the way he had before. And even though Tom had never physically punished him again, Jarrod still flinched whenever his father touched him, at least until this past year when he'd gotten his growth and put on enough muscle so his father's size could no longer intimidate him. Jarrod hoped that, by stepping in, the same thing wouldn't happen between Carl and his father.

Sighing, Jarrod tossed the rest of the rocks into the water. He needed to start for home if he was going to be able to finish his chores before supper.


End file.
